


All Hands On Deck

by donutwolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belly Kink, Breastplay, Chubby Lance, Ex Jock Lance, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Making Out, Moobs, Snapshots, Stuffing, Verbal Humiliation, Weight Gain, tight clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: They both show up to the party dressed as pirates. Turns out any cheap costume could be Shiro’s undoing—as long as it's tight enough.





	All Hands On Deck

**Author's Note:**

> Making my Shance debut with a marginally topical Halloween kink fic! This ficlet is set in a long running AU I've been building in my head, so if it feels like there's a lot of backstory left untold... that's because there is lol. I did my best to make it work as a standalone fic, hope it's not too confusing. Kink smut ahoy, so please read the tags before jumping aboard!
> 
> As always, cheers to Chubstilinski for her beta work. <3

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” 

Shiro’s face felt as hot as Lance looked in the dim lighting of the guest room; he didn’t give himself time to hesitate as he dropped his hands down to Lance’s gut, to finally squeeze into that proud pudgy swell. The din of the party seemed so far away in that moment, like it was all a dream, and somehow, that made the words come easier. 

“I like this. I like it  _ a lot _ .”

Lance gasped, his expression flickering. Lust and shame mixed into one on his beer flushed face, and he breathed out, “ _ Shiro, _ ” gripping into his biceps so hard he’d have bruises there later. 

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you,” he murmured, kneading into the soft blubber under Lance’s belly. It was just as doughy as he’d imagined, but he’d gotten the weight wrong. It felt so much  _ heavier  _ than he’d thought, solid and full with all the candy and sweets he’d stuffed there all night long. “God, you drive me  _ crazy  _ like this.”

“Shi—”

He cut Lance off with a kiss, not intentionally but not backing down once he got there. Not that Lance resisted. His mouth was loose and alive under Shiro’s lips, and the taste of him drove him wilder. He’d wanted to take this slower; every time he’d thought about this moment, he’d gone the gentle route, soft kisses and praising words. But now that he had Lance under his touch, his bloated gut squished between them, it was like all the deprived fantasies he’d been repressing boiled to the surface. 

He pushed his leg between Lance’s, trying to bring them closer. He almost moaned when Lance’s soft thighs embraced him, and his hands darted down to grasp at them. Lance gave a jolt, surprised, breaking off the kiss.

“So—you’re not mad?” Lance said after a few breaths, trying not squirming in Shiro’s grip. 

“Mad about what?”

Lance’s eyes darted away, then back again, his jaw setting as if he was forcing himself to speak. “That I haven’t been following the program.”

Shiro had to bite on his lip not laugh. Not because it was funny, but because Lance couldn’t be farther from the truth. He hummed, squeezing at Lance’s thighs; the pants he’d worn as part of his costume weren’t nearly obscene as his shirt, but he could feel how tight they were, straining against the thickness of his fleshy thighs. Digging his fingers in, he could feel the muscle underneath the thick padding of fat, and something about that contrast made his head  _ reel _ , driving the words out of his mouth.

“You mean that instead of losing weight, you’ve been gaining it?”

He held Lance’s gaze, waiting for him to recover while his restless hands wandered up to his hips. “Why would I be mad about that?”

“Because I didn’t... Because I cheated.”

Lance dropped his gaze, brow twisting into a frown, and Shiro felt his heart soften; it looked like Lance had really worried over this. “Hey, I’m not mad. So you didn’t exactly follow the meal plan I gave you, big deal. You still came to every practice and let me bust your ass at the gym—” 

He saw Lance’s lips tug in amusement, and grimaced.

Lance didn’t miss a beat in his delivery. “Hmm,” he drawled, looking up. “I would  _ definitely _ remember you busting my ass—”

“Not  _ literally _ , Lance.” He rolled his eyes at Lance’s grin; he should have seen that one coming. But as his eyes settled back on Lance’s face, the cheeky smile still plastered there, he remembered exactly what had made him fall for him.

“Not that I didn’t want to,” he said, leaning in to steal a kiss. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to push you against the lockers after each session, rip off those  _ ridiculously _ small T-shirts you wear.”

Lance made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a snort. “Jesus, Shiro, is  _ that _ what you think about when we train? No wonder you always seem so spaced out.”

Shiro felt his face flush red. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at my ass every time I do squats—the gym has mirrors, you know.”

“I’m not—” Lance cleared his throat, then amended, “Well, your ass looks  _ really _ nice when you do that. I’m only human.”

“ _ Your  _ ass looks nice,” Shiro said, slipping his hands back to grasp Lance’s butt, effectively pulling them closer in the process.

“Hey!” Lance yelped; Shiro shushed him, but Lance just rolled his eyes. “I doubt they can hear us through the music,” he said, but kept his voice down anyway.

“Someone might notice we’re missing and come looking—” Shiro leaned in as he spoke, peppering Lance’s jaw with kisses. His skin was so smooth, so soft and his cheeks so chubby that Shiro just wanted to nuzzle his face in and stay there. “—I’d rather keep doing this.”

Lance didn’t protest that. He tilted his head, lifting his chin so that Shiro could kiss his neck; he was still clutching Shiro’s arms, his fists bunched up in the fluffy sleeves of Shiro’s shirt like he was afraid of drowning. Shiro nibbled on the chubby spot under his jaw, pulling moans and gasps from Lance’s lips as he teased and kneaded the roll of blubber on his waistline—he wasn’t sure which one of them was louder, in the end; all he knew was that he needed to feel Lance,  _ all  _ of him, right now.

He pulled back enough to give Lance one last lookover. He wanted to memorize every detail of his costume before messing it up: the straining buttons that barely held in his gut, just short of gaping at the widest part of his waistline; the hopelessly small vest that struggled to hide his love handles only to do the opposite, emphasizing his roundness instead. There no way,  _ no way _ Lance could actually button that thing up, and the thought of it sent a spark of electric heat travelling through Shiro’s spine. 

“You look so  _ thick, _ ” he growled, tugging Lance’s hips to pull his gut against him. He could hear Lance’s breathing coming out in sharp little shocks when he delved his fingers in and jiggled his gut, palming handfuls of fat to lift up and jostle. He moved his hands up the slick fabric, feverish to feel how round it was, how  _ soft _ , until finally reaching Lance’s chest. Shiro bit on his lip, but even that couldn’t stop him from making a sound when he cupped Lance’s tits in his hands. 

“ _ Fuck _ .  _ Soft _ ."

He’d been in love with Lance’s chest ever since that morning on the track field last fall—he’d lost count of how many times he’d gotten off thinking about that  _ jiggle. _ He still wasn’t completely over the fact that this was Lance— _ Lance _ , who’d been the skinniest guy in their entire high school team, now fattened up by his college years to the point where he had  _ tits. _ Cradled in Shiro’s palms, they filled his hands perfectly, heavy and soft at the same time. He couldn’t help but jiggle them, lost for a moment in fantasy land.

He could see the hard nubs of Lance’s nipples through the shirt, and suddenly overcome with lust, he bent down to bite at one; Lance cried out, but that just made him lose it more, his tongue darting out to lick before sucking at the dampened cloth. Even with the shirt between them, Lance was back to squirming, his hands roaming Shiro’s back and shoulders to curl around the nape of his neck—

He couldn’t take it any longer. He reached down and grabbed Lance’s shirt in his hands, tugging it out of his pants. He moaned when he felt warm skin brush against his fingers; with Lance’s gut pooled in his hands, his face buried in his breast meat, Shiro could swear he’d died and gone to heaven. 

He broke off panting, eyes raking over Lance’s body. He slipped his hands under the hem, pushing it up to expose Lance’s gut, then moved back down to grab the wobbly flesh of his overhang. He looked so full that Shiro could make out the bulge of his overfed stomach—he was so round that he looked almost pregnant, but the thick rolls at his sides betrayed him for what he really was: a glutton of the first grade, not tamed even by Shiro’s rigorous training schedule. 

He’d seen glimpses of Lance’s belly before, but now that he had the real thing in front of him, it was like his mind had been wiped clean. He swallowed, trying to find his words, but nothing came out. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

His eyes shot up, finding Lance staring at him with narrow eyes; he looked flushed, but also a little nervous, and Shiro realized he’d been silent for too long. He cleared his throat, smoothing his palms over Lance’s sides. 

“Well, it’s hard to describe perfection.”

Lance snorted. “You’re not serious,” he countered. 

“Mmh, I’m pretty sure I am.” He moved closer, glancing down to catch the way Lance’s gut squished between them, a soft beach ball of blubber pressing against his toned abs; when he looked back up, Lance was watching him with darkened eyes, his lips parted, and Shiro couldn’t resist kissing him again. He leaned his forehead against Lance’s, his words heated even as a whisper. “I thought I’ve made myself pretty clear that I like this.”

Lance shivered. “I got that part  _ now _ ,” he said. “But I thought—I thought you  _ wanted _ me to lose weight. That’s why I came to the gym with you, and I tried—”

Shiro shook his head. “I never said I wanted that—I only offered to help because  _ you _ said you were trying to slim down.” He stole another kiss, then pulled back enough to meet Lance’s eyes. “I thought you looked  _ fine  _ back then.  _ More _ than fine.” He took a breath and then let loose, his cheeks growing hotter as he spoke. “So fine that I wanted any excuse to spend more time with you, and when you brought up the gym, I thought—hey, now there’s an excuse not only to do just that, but also to see you sweating your butt off at the squat rack...”

Lance had been staring at him with an unreadable expression; finally, he raised a brow and said, “So  _ that’s _ why you wanted me to do squats at every session—”

Shiro pulled a face. “No, no,” he cut in, but he could see Lance wasn’t buying it. “That’s what it says on the program. I can show you the website—”

“Then you chose that particular program  _ because _ squats every day meant more opportunities to oggle at my ass—”

“I didn’t!” He laughed, kissing the smile off Lance’s lips. “Though I can’t say I don’t like how  _ round _ all that training has made your booty...” As he said it, he let his hands slip down to Lance’s backside, giving his ass a slap that sent his butt cheeks quivering. 

Lance yelped, but he was quick to recover, grinding his butt against Shiro’s hands in a way that left him breathless.

That got them right on track in no time.

After a moment of kissing and grinding, Shiro wound his hands up to tease Lance’s chest. It pleased him how much Lance seemed to enjoy it—he shuddered under Shiro’s touch when he bounced his tits on his hands, stifled moans growing louder every time he rolled his nipples between his fingers. But he needed more—there was still the shirt obstructing his view, so he guided his hands to the buttons and started plucking them open with haste.

Which was easier said than done. “God, Lance—what even made you choose this outfit? These buttons are a menace...” When he finally got the shirt to fall open, a growl of satisfaction slipped past his lips.

“What, now you’re saying you don’t like it?”

“Oh, I like it—I meant what I said earlier.” He swept his eyes down Lance’s front, then back up to his drawn-on beard (or what was left of it), the eyepatch clinging to his forehead where he’d pushed it up earlier. His hat had dropped off at some point, but the bandana wrapped around his head was still on place. Shiro grinned, grasping at Lance’s bare chest, loving the flicker of lust that crossed his features. 

“You make a  _ way _ better pirate than I do.”

Lance blushed; he reached out and trailed a finger down Shiro’s bare chest. Unlike Lance’s costume, his pirate shirt had a wide open cleavage that reached all the way down to his navel, the fluffy fabric bunching around his waist where he’d tucked the hem in his jeans. Lance rested his palm on Shiro’s hard stomach, feeling up the muscle there. “Well, that’s saying something, Mr. Abs of Steel.”

He choked back a laugh. “That’s  _ Captain  _ Abs of Steel, ya wretched dog. Respect the title or I’ll have you, um...”

“You’ll have me what?” Lance prompted after a beat. “Walk the plank?”

Shiro hummed, kissing Lance instead of answering. His hands found their way back to his newly freed chest, squeezing at Lance’s chubby tits as he ground against him, reveling in the feel of his soft flesh. For a moment, he entertained the idea of Lance actually walking the plank, like this, all his fat hanging out—

He almost laughed when the idea hit him. He straightened up, but kept his hands on Lance’s belly.

“I was thinking—treadmill?”

“ _ Treadmill? _ ” It took a moment for Lance to catch his drift, but then he groaned and said, “ _ Oh,  _ you want me to—you’re giving me some mixed messages here, bucko.”

Shiro flushed, but didn’t relent; he palmed the low curve of Lance’s gut and jiggled it, watching the flabby flesh quiver in response. “Nothing weird about wanting to see some chub in motion.”

“Uh, I think the majority of people would say that’s the  _ definition _ of weird, you pervert.”

“We all have our vices,” Shiro said, sinking his hands into Lance’s soft pudge. “Besides, a little exercise seems to do wonders for your appetite...”

Lance spluttered and started to protest, but Shiro silenced him with a kiss. When they parted, he said, “So which one is it? Respect the rank, or walk the plank?”

Lance rolled his eyes, huffing. “Fine, keep your mangy rank. Now—are you gonna blow me or what, Captain Abs the Perverted?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said, then grinned. “Captain Jiggletits.”

“ _ Jiggletits? _ ”

“Shh, keep it down,” Shiro said, but he couldn’t help but laugh at Lance’s scandalized face.

“I don’t accept that.”

“Hey, you named me for my six pack, so I get get to name you for your assets too.”

“Did you just call my tits  _ assets? _ ”

“Just accept it,” Shiro said, then grabbed Lance’s gut and showed him exactly why the name fit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @[blackdonuthole](https://blackdonuthole.tumblr.com/), ask box is always open.


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